


The World As You Don't Remember It

by delgaserasca



Category: Flashbacks of a Fool (2008)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delgaserasca/pseuds/delgaserasca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse between Joe leaving and Joe coming back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World As You Don't Remember It

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posting from livejournal. No-one has seen this film, let alone written fic for it.

No more may gulls cry at their ears  
Or waves break loud on the seashores;  
Where blew a flower may a flower no more  
Lift its head to the blows of the rain  
 **Dylan Thomas, _And Death Shall Have No Dominion_**  


  
  
  
  
  
  


When they get back from the funeral - that's when everything falls apart. Mum is already annoyed that Joe didn't bother to turn up for Evelyn's sake and she's even angrier when the house is empty and Joe is no-where to be found.  _I'll give that boy a talking to when I find him_ , she's muttering, and Peggy is looking on half-sympathetic, half-worried, and that's the moment when it hits Jesse that this isn't like all those other times that Joe just swanned off. There's something in the air of the house that strikes her as different, and it's been a long day, and she wishes she could get out of this stifling dress, and Jane isn't there to play with, and she just knows - just  _knows_  - that Joe isn't coming home this time.

Two hours later, the cash box found empty, Mum's also making that connection, and Jesse goes to bed having only eaten two slices of bread, listening to Peggy trying to get Mum to calm down. 

 

 

 

 

It's all go after that. The police are there the next morning, and Mum is fraught and pale. She's always been slim, but now she seems to be hanging off her bones. Jesse stands in the door to her bedroom and watches as the adults scuff around. One of the policemen is looking through Joe's room; the other is drinking Peggy's tea and talking to Mum. 

Nobody notices Jesse.

 

 

 

 

Jesse's playing on the shore when the shadow crosses her view. She just assumes it's Peggy, so she doesn't bother to turn around.

_Is it true? Has your brother really run away?_

Not Peggy Tickell; it's Ruth Davies. Jesse only knows her from a distance - knows her parents are rich and never at home. Close-up she's very pretty with wide eyes, dark hair, and kindness in her voice. They'll be friends one day, the way people who grow up in the same place tend to be friends. For now though she's wearing that oversized coat of hers and smells faintly of cigarettes.

Jesse looks back up the shore to her house; her mother is on the porch, just watching her. Ruth looks back too and comes to her own conclusion. She sits down next to Jesse without invitation. 

_Have you heard from him at all?_  Jesse shakes her head, and goes back to poking holes in the sand.  _Sounds like Joe_ , Ruth murmurs. She's not really talking to Jesse, so Jesse doesn't answer. Anyway, Ruth is too preoccupied with the debris at the far end of the shore. Everyone is these days, though Jesse doesn't really understand. She knows it has something to do with Jane, and with the funeral, and it's the reason why Evelyn Adams hasn't been out of her house even once since Joe left, but she doesn't really  _know_. Every time she wanders down that way Mrs Rogers stands in the doorway of her house and shakes her walking stick viciously in the air, so she just turns tail and walks back. 

_It's weird the way things happen_ , Ruth says with a sigh, and Jesse just keeps digging in the sand because there's nothing to be said to that either, and there's nothing to be done.

 

 

 

 

When she gets home Mum is sleeping. Peggy is standing with her hands in the sink, the dishes half-washed and the water getting cold. She looks up when Jesse ambles in.  _Hello, little one_ , she says, sadly,  _how's the sand?_

It's one of those things that people say to her when they don't know what else to say so she shrugs and makes her way to her bedroom.

Joe's room is at the end of the hall with the door half open. She's not supposed to go in there; Joe always got in a mood when she did. But then, Joe isn't there. She tiptoes to the end of the hall and lightly pushes on the door. It swings open quietly, and she's struck by a wave of light from the window. 

Sneaking a look over her shoulder as though Joe might reappear at any moment she slips softly into the room. His cupboard is half-empty, but other than that everything is where he left it - egg shells nestled in cotton wool and plastic soldiers under cut-out battlements. There's a shirt on the floor in the corner, and his record player on the dresser, the records filed carefully next to it. She runs her finger across the stack of coloured sleeves feeling the wear in the cardboard. The one on top is half-spilt from its cover; a dark-haired woman looks up at her, her eye-lids blue and her teeth bared in a grimace. Jesse likes it, she decides, lifting it to take a better look. 

_Leave that alone now_. Jesse spins; the record clatters quietly to the floor, as though it too is reluctant to break the silence. Mum comes in and picks it up, placing it carefully back with the others.  _Come on; you shouldn't be in here._  She takes Jesse tightly by the hand, though not unkindly, and they leave the room. Jesse bites down on her bottom lip, but doesn't speak. This isn't a house for words any more. 

 

 

 

 

A few days later she sees Ruth out with Boots and she doesn't make much of it then but years later she wonders, is that why you left? The shoreline has always been a small quiet community, but now it's still and cold, and even now, at the end of summer when the light normally sets the water aglow, even now there is only cloud and the beginnings of a reluctant rain. Jesse stands up on her tiptoes and reaches out as far as she can, the breeze whipping lightly around her arms. The sea air is sharp and salty and brewing for an argument, but there is no storm. Only the quiet stretching as far as her ears can hear.

 

 

 

 

 

(The explosion shakes the foundations of the house, and Mum takes her hand; runs out in a panic.  _Peggy? Peggy, what was that?_  but Peggy is already running out towards the shore, and there, there, down by the tide line, under a wave of ash is Mrs Rogers wailing into the wind.

Jesse trips after Mum as fast as she can, and people are emerging now from other places. Peggy is kneeling in front of old Mrs Rogers trying to assess the damage, and the old woman looks so, so small, even to Jesse.  _I tried to save her but I couldn't - that poor girl, that poor wee girl._  Peggy looks tense, and Mum's grip is tight on Jesse's wrist.  _I shouted to her come away, come away._

_Who?_  Peggy asks again.

_Evelyn's little girl, Jane._

_Oh my god._

Jesse will never forget how Mum swept her up into her arms. It's Peggy, though, who straightens up and takes charge. She sees someone approaching from the distance, but Jesse doesn't know who - she's still trying to see through the cloud of dust. The air is singed; her nostrils burn. It's Peggy who tells Mum to take her back to the house, and Peggy who checks to see if Mrs Rogers is injured.  _One of those sea mines from the war._  It's Peggy who commandeers Joe when he arrives - Jesse and Mum pass Evelyn, and Jesse thinks how strange it is that they should come from the same direction.

It's Peggy who has to tell Evelyn, and Peggy who has to fight her down. It's Peggy that Jesse remembers in the chaos, and Mum's hand on her back, and old Mrs Rogers, crying in the sand.)

 

 

 

 

After everything, it's Boots who comes to see her. School starts soon, and a letter came from Joe yesterday morning. Mum had burst into tears, and Peggy had put the kettle on before shooing Jesse out of the house. Jesse didn't ask what the letter said but she'd found it early this morning.  _Dear Mum, I'm in London. Please don't worry, I'm safe. I'm sorry I didn't leave you a note. I'm sorry I took the money from you but I needed it. I promise I'll pay you back every penny and more. Take care, love, Joe._  She doesn't know where London is, but it sounds a long way off. She misses him.

Peggy's garden is beginning to look unkempt what with her ferrying after Mum all the time, and Jesse wonders who's going to trim back the hedge, or collect the carrots. The early harvest is ready to come in, and the apples are ready to pluck. Jesse never liked to play in the garden without Jane, though, so more often than not she winds her way down to the shore. 

Boots is a gangly, shy fellow, and his fingers are always sticky. Where Joe was brash to make up for his naivety, Boots is open and soft-spoken. There's a faint scar on his cheek, a few weeks old by now, and it makes him look older somehow. She doesn't really know him except as Joe's friend. But then, Joe isn't here, she reminds herself. Joe isn't here.

_How's your mum?_  Boots asks.  _She must be losing it_ , he says before she has a chance to answer. Jesse just shrugs in reply. _It's just like Joe to bugger off_ , he adds. He looks at her carefully.  _How are you?_

It's the first time anyone's asked her that. It's the first time anyone's asked her a direct question and actually expected an answer. She draws her shoulders in awkwardly, unwilling to tell the absolute truth.  _I'm bored._  She pauses, before adding:  _It's all really quiet._

Unconsciously, Boots mirrors her pose, except he's taller so he looks to be all angles and elbows. He looks over Jesse's head, down the shoreline to where the sand is grey now, mixed with the sodden ash.  _Have you been down to see it? A mine, a real mine. They say it happens all the time, all those old war munitions just turning up all along the coast._  He shoves his hands deep into his pockets.  _I wish Joe was here._

_I wish Jane was here_ , Jesse finally admits. She wishes everyone were here and that no-one was dead or running away or missing or locked up in their house. Instead here she is, on the beach with Boots, looking out towards the last place her brother and her best friend had been together. With her. 

The gulls circle above.

 

 

 

 

Jesse sees Evelyn Adams two days later. Hair down, no make-up, eyes red and cheeks sore. She looks like she's been drowned. She looks very young.

She's sitting on the porch step when Evelyn arrives dressed in an oversized coat and smelling sweet with liquor. For a moment she doesn't recognise Jesse - mistakes her for someone else? - and then realisation dawns and her face goes cold again.

She doesn't say anything, just steps over Jesse and towards the kitchen door. 

Jesse feels the dull thud of rejection pool in her stomach.

 

 

 

 

The day before school starts Joe sends another letter. Mum folds it carefully and puts it it the cutlery drawer before turning back to peeling the vegetables for lunch. The laundry is on the line, flapping in the breeze, and Peggy is outside again tackling the ivy and weeding the flowerbeds. Jesse is on the step again, playing with a doll. The doll was called Miss Wendy, but she has been rechristened.  _Come on Jane, everything's going to be just fine._  Peggy looks up when she hears Jesse talking and gives a half-smile.

_Come and help me with this_ , she says, gesturing at the flowerbed.  _It'll be quicker with the two of us._  She smiles encouragingly. _Come on, Jesse. Your last day of freedom before school. Come and talk to me._

Jesse ponders the offer.  _Can Jane come too?_

Peggy's smile barely falters. Barely.  _Of course she can, love. Whatever you like._

Jesse considers this, too, before ambling over to where Peggy is digging about in the dirt. It's like poking holes in the sand, she thinks, I can do that. Peggy hands over an old canvas glove and a trowel, and the two of them set to work pulling the weeds out from the soil.

The doll lies idle on the porch step.

  
  
  


> "Oh, Jesus Christ, Jesse - you're getting more like Peggy Tickell every day."  
>  **Joe Scott, _Flashbacks of a Fool_**  
> 

  
  
**end.**


End file.
